


Treasures We Secure

by GotTheSilver



Series: Supernatural Codas [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Coda, Depression, Developing Relationship, Episode Tag, Hand Jobs, M/M, Season/Series 11 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 05:58:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6317482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>post 11.15</p><p>*</p><p>
  <i>Much like the bunker feels too quiet, his room feels empty without Cas around.  It’s not—it wasn’t all the time.  Wasn’t anything they put a name to, but it was something, and Dean got used to having Cas in his space, having him in his bed.  Now he’s not here, it’s like Dean’s missing something vital and he’s not sure how to deal with it aside from knowing he wants Cas back.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Treasures We Secure

**Author's Note:**

> next time I decide to write a mid-season hiatus fic, someone stop me.
> 
> post 11.15, so obvious spoilers and warnings for all related emotional states.
> 
> with many thanks to people who have listened to me while I've been writing this, and special thanks to BK for her beta skills, any remaining mistakes are mine.

Just once, Dean would like to come back to the bunker feeling like they’ve won, like they’ve done some good. Lately, it’s been loss after loss and Dean’s not sure how much more he can take. Glancing over at Sam, Dean heads to the kitchen to grab some beers.

“Here,” he says, waving the beer in front of Sam’s face where he’s sat slumped in a chair. “Drink up.”

“This isn’t a solution,” Sam says, taking the beer anyway.

“Works for me.” Dean picks up a sheet of paper from the table and glances at it before dropping it on a pile. “Back to the grind,” he mumbles before taking a swig of beer. There’s nothing new in the lore, nothing he hasn’t read a thousand times already trying to find something to lead them in the direction of saving Cas. Looking over at Sam, Dean nudges his foot with his own. “You good?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

“Uh huh. You slept at all since—”

“I’m fine, Dean.”

“You’re about as fine as I am,” Dean says, closing his eyes for a moment in an attempt to fool his body into thinking he’s more rested than he is. “Have we got _anyone_ who can help us with this?”

“You mean aside from Cas?”

“Sam—”

“No, is the answer, Dean. Maybe another angel, but it’s not like we’re on the best of terms with them.”

“You’d think those self-righteous assholes could get over themselves and lend a hand.” Dean straightens up and drains his beer. “Sittin’ up there acting like they know everything when they’re just as helpless as we are.”

There’s a banging at the door, startling both of them; Dean looks at Sam and rolls his eyes when Sam shrugs. Moving in tandem up the stairs towards the door, Dean feels a weight on his shoulders, not wanting to know what the hell has tracked them down here. When they reach the door, Sam nods at Dean to open it, raising his gun as Dean pulls it open.

“That’s an interesting way to greet the person here to save your ass.”

Dean’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t lower his knife. “What the—”

“Gabriel?” Sam holds his gun steady, narrowing his eyes. “Prove it.”

“The fact I couldn’t get into the building isn’t enough for you?” Gabriel sighs and nods at Dean. “Have some dinner.”

Dean looks down and there’s a bag in his left hand that smells of bacon and grease and pie. “Okay,” he says, sheathing his knife and stepping back from the entrance. “Come in.”

*

“Let me get this straight,” Gabriel says, his feet kicked up on the table. “You made my brother feel so useless that he let my murderous older brother take him over in an attempt to help you two save the world?”

Dean’s been in Gabriel’s presence for all of ten minutes and he already wants him gone again. “We didn’t make him feel anything,” he says. “Cas—he’s been through a lot.”

“And did either of you assholes talk to him about it?”

“I thought you said you were here to help,” Dean says, not wanting to think about the ways he’s failed Cas recently because if he goes down that road, he’s going to be less useful in this fight than he already is. He folds his arms across his chest and looks down at Gabriel. “Help.”

“Where’s my brother?”

“Hell.”

“Ah. So, Hand of God, or are we saving my baby brother first?”

“You know where to find a Hand of God?” Sam raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Archangel? Messenger of God? Any of that ringing a bell?”

Dean makes a face and shakes his head. “Saving Cas is the priority. That comes above everything. We—I—need him back.”

“Okay,” Gabriel says. “We’re going to need to draw Lucifer out.”

“How?”

Gabriel swings his feet down from the table and stands up, a smile on his face. “Leave it to me. Just be prepared. Got anything for me to read in this joint?”

“I’ll show you the library,” Sam says, shooting a look at Dean as he heads out.

After they’ve gone, Dean picks up a fork and pokes at the pie left on the table. He’s not sure he trusts anything that Gabriel made out of thin air, but pie is pie, and the burgers were decent. If he’s gonna trust Gabriel with helping save the world, he should trust the pie. Probably.

Sighing, Dean lets the fork fall into the dish with a clatter and rubs his hands along his thighs before standing up. There’s a quiet in the bunker that’s almost deafening, and Dean wants to do something, anything, to blast the quiet away. Walking around the table, he absently tidies up, taking plates and mugs into the kitchen and dropping them in the sink. He pauses by the cupboard and opens it, staring at a half empty bottle of whiskey. It’s so tempting Dean can almost taste it, and he bites his bottom lip, wanting nothing more than to drink enough to pass out so he doesn’t have to think about any of what’s to come. Closing the door to the cupboard, Dean walks away quickly, heading towards his room.

“You heading to bed?” Sam says, catching him in the hallway.

“Yeah. Kind of. Gabriel settled?”

“Working his way through the Men of Letters library as we speak.”

Dean narrows his eyes and looks down the hall. “You think we can trust him?”

“I think he loves his brother, and I think we don’t have much else to go on.”

“Yeah. Alright, I’m hitting the sack. You gonna do the same?”

“Totally.”

“Sam.”

“I’m gonna sleep, Dean, I swear.”

Nodding at Sam, not quite believing him but too tired to argue, Dean pushes open his bedroom door and sits on the edge of his bed. Much like the bunker feels too quiet, his room feels empty without Cas around. It’s not—it wasn’t all the time. Wasn’t anything they put a name to, but it was _something_ , and Dean got used to having Cas in his space, having him in his bed. Now he’s not here, it’s like Dean’s missing something vital and he’s not sure how to deal with it aside from knowing he wants Cas back.

Picking up his pyjamas from the floor, Dean strips down and gets into them, taking some measure of comfort from the softness of the fabric against his skin. He makes a quick trip to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and splashing water over his face, before heading back. There’s a noise coming from the kitchen, and Dean assumes it’s Sam unable to sleep. Fucking Lucifer. If whatever Gabriel’s got planned doesn’t work, Dean’s gonna march through hell and drag Lucifer out of Cas if he has to.

*

Dean’s dreaming. He knows he’s dreaming because he’s at that goddamn lake again, fishing pole in his hand, and the water’s unnaturally still. “Cas?” he asks. “You here?”

“I am.”

“Is it you?” Dean looks around, not seeing anything.

“Yes. I can’t—this is only temporary.”

“Why’d you do it, Cas? Why’d you—”

“It’s not important.”

“To hell it is,” Dean yells, standing up, the fishing pole falling into the water. Turning around he notices the leaves on the trees rustle. “You’ve gotta tell me, Cas.”

“I wanted to help.”

“By letting Lucifer use you like this?”

“Dean I can’t—I don’t have much time.”

“Cas,” Dean chokes out. “Don’t—”

The leaves stop rustling and the next thing Dean knows, he’s awake in the bunker, staring up at the ceiling. There’s a wetness on his cheeks that he stubbornly ignores, and the other side of the bed feels like a gaping chasm that Dean will never be able to fill. “Fuck,” Dean breathes out, hands gripping the blanket tightly.

Sleep takes a long time to come after that.

*

Dean wakes up earlier than he intended to, especially after that dream, and after rubbing his eyes, he tugs his robe on over his pjs and heads out of his room. There’s a scent of coffee already brewing and Dean heads towards it, scrubbing a hand through his hair as he goes. He finds Gabriel in the kitchen, hunched over a book with a notebook next to him, scribbling things down as he goes.

“Making corrections?” Dean asks, stumbling towards the coffee.

“Yes, actually. I’ve been around a long time, Dean-o, your people don’t know everything.”

“Do not call me that.”

Sitting at the kitchen table with Gabriel, Dean inhales his coffee and watches him make notes. “What are we going to do with Lucifer?” he asks after he’s drained his mug, feeling marginally more human.

“Once Castiel casts him out, he should go straight back to the cage,” Gabriel says. “No vessel, no being topside.”

“Are you sure?”

“No.”

“That’s comforting.”

Gabriel looks up and meets Dean’s eyes with a hard glare. “Find comfort somewhere else, kid. I’m looking to save my brother, something I think you know a lot about.”

“Fair.”

“The longer Castiel is taken over by Lucifer, the harder it’s going to be to get him to fight back. I’m not losing my brother. Not again.”

“He spoke to me. Last night.”

“Castiel spoke to you?”

“In my dream.”

Gabriel closes the book he’s been going through and leans backwards, staring at Dean unnervingly. “Huh.”

“What’s that meant to mean?”

“Guess you and my brother are a little closer than dad thought you’d be.”

Dean shakes his head, getting up to pour more coffee because there’s no way he’s having a conversation like this without more caffeine. “Me an’ Cas... it’s complicated.”

“Complicated is the world being torn apart because your older brother had a temper tantrum about daddy not loving him the most. You and baby bro? That’s simple.”

“Tell that to the world.”

“I’m not here to be your relationship guru,” Gabriel says. “Think about that when we get Castiel back.”

Sitting down with a refilled mug, Dean rubs his eyes with the back of his hand and yawns. “When are we doing this? What am I going to need?”

“Holy oil.”

“You think we can trap Lucifer?”

“I think we’re going to have to throw everything we’ve got at him after I’ve drawn him out.”

“And how are you planning on doing that?”

“I’m going to rearrange the stars.”

Dean makes a face. “I don’t want to know, do I?”

“Leave me to it, kiddo.”

*

That evening, Dean’s flicking through channels when Sam walks in holding his laptop. “Look at this,” Sam says, shoving the screen in front of Dean’s face.

“Okay, those are stars.”

“Stars spelling out words in enochian,” Sam says, sitting down on the couch with his laptop in his hands. “More specifically ‘Lucifer is an impotent asshole’, and then coordinates and a time for tomorrow. This Gabriel’s doing?”

“Do you know someone else with this power? Where are the coordinates?”

Sam squints at the screen, pulling them up on a map. “Best I can tell, a field not far from here.”

“Time?”

“High noon.”

“Of course it is,” Dean says, sinking back against the couch. “Car stocked?”

“Yep.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

“Dean, you know we’re relying on Cas fighting off Lucifer, right?”

“He will.”

“Okay,” Sam says with a nod. “What if he doesn’t?”

“Not possible.”

“He made that choice.”

“Yeah, to help us, not become a meat suit for Lucifer. He wants out, Sam, I know he does.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Dean rubs his hands along his thighs and stands up. “You keep hoping, I’m going to get some sleep.”

*

It’s not like Dean thought this would be an easy thing to do, but when they get to the field, all he can see is demons. “Welcoming committee, great.” Unsheathing his knife, Dean glances over at Sam. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Dean marches through the field, stabbing anything that gets into his path; blood spatters over his face as he slices through the demons coming at him, and he wipes it absently before moving on to the next one. There’s an uncomfortable memory of when he bore the mark and he wonders if this is what Cas meant when he said he’d watch Dean destroy the world, but Dean is past caring; if it takes destroying the world to get Cas back, then he’s going to do it because he can’t do this without Cas, doesn’t _want_ to do this without Cas.

There’s a scream from the midst of the field and he knows without looking that Gabriel’s arrived. A demon comes at him from the left and he cuts a line down it’s chest, pushing him in the direction of Sam who ganks him from behind. There’s light glowing where Gabriel landed, and Dean calls over to Sam, nods in the direction of it and they fight their way through, killing as they go because there’s no other way through.

The light fades as they get closer, Gabriel at the centre, demons falling all around him. “He’s coming,” Gabriel says, eyes fixed on a point behind Sam and Dean. “Be ready.”

There’s an eerie silence in the field, everything going still, and Dean braces himself for what he knows is coming.

“Hello, Dean,” comes a mockery of Cas’ voice that cuts Dean to his core.

Turning around, Dean makes himself look at Lucifer, taking in the unfamiliar expression he’s making using Cas’ face. “Lucifer.”

“Am I not fooling you anymore? Shame. It made Castiel scream when you’d believe me, when you actually thought you were talking to him. It was delicious.” He turns to look at Gabriel. “And my brother, here to try and stop me again. What makes you think you’ll succeed?”

“I’m not alone,” Gabriel says. “And you’re going to lose. Not because of me, or Dean, or Sam, but because Castiel is going to fight back.”

“That’s precious,” Lucifer says, taking a few steps towards Gabriel and grabbing his face. “You think Castiel has the strength to expel me? He only let me in because he was weak, and after all this time of having me inside him, you think he’s any stronger?”

Dean moves quickly while Lucifer is distracted, pouring out the holy oil in a half circle, watching Sam do the same until they meet, closing Lucifer in the circle. 

Gabriel’s squirming in Lucifer’s grip, feet dragging against the ground. “Cas, Castiel, I know you’re in there, and I know you can fight.” Lucifer’s head tilts in a poor imitation of Cas, and as soon as he throws Gabriel clear, Dean drops his lighter, igniting the ring of holy fire around Lucifer. Gabriel struggles to his feet, and grins at Lucifer. “Gotcha.”

*

“It’s your fault, you know,” Lucifer says to Dean, sitting in the middle of the circle. “My brother, beholden to things like you, who made him feel worthless. He should be in heaven, looking down on you all, roasting you on spits, and instead he’s here trying to help you. Castiel is worth more than that.”

“You’re trying to tell me you’re doing this for his own good?” Dean shakes his head. “You really don’t know Cas at all.”

“I think we’ve become closer. Sharing a vessel and all.”

“Cas fought against you before,” Sam says, his hands in his pockets, keeping a careful distance from the ring of fire, from Lucifer. “To save me. He can do it again.”

Dean takes a step back and swallows around the lump in his throat. There’s things he wants to say, but the words don’t come out right when he tries to form them, and he hates himself for that. Lucifer’s watching him like he knows what Dean’s thinking, and Dean doesn’t even want to know what things Lucifer’s found about he and Cas while he’s been poking around in Cas’ head.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” Lucifer sing songs at him. “Do you know the guilt Castiel is carrying around? How he feels he let you down? How he believes you think he’s weak?”

“Shut up,” Dean bites out. “Cas, you hang on, you fight and you expel this asshole. We need you. I—I need you.”

“That’s so sweet I think I might shed a tear.”

Sam’s hand lands on Dean’s shoulder with a slight squeeze. “Cas, I know you can do this. You did it before, to help save me. We want you back, you’re family.”

Lucifer’s body contorts and he falls on his side. “No, I don’t—goddamnit Castiel, can’t you see they’re lying to you?”

“If anyone’s lying,” Gabriel interjects. “It’s you. Castiel is stronger than this, stronger than anything you can throw at him and, man, I like him an awful lot more than I like you. You can’t pick your family, but if I could, I’d pick Cas and leave you rotting away by yourself.”

Dean shakes off Sam’s hand and crouches near to the fire, close than he probably should. “Cas. I—whatever you think I think of you, you’re wrong, okay? I should’ve told you that I want you around. It’s not just need, Cas, it’s not. I want you with us, with me, every day that you want to be around.” Lowering his head, Dean breathes out heavily. “Please come back.” There’s a noise from the centre of the ring and Dean looks up to see a familiar expression on Cas’ face. “Cas?”

“I can’t do this, Dean. I’m not str—”

“You are,” Dean says desperately, gesturing for Gabriel and Sam to come closer. “You’re strong. You can do this.”

“Hey kiddo,” Gabriel says, kneeling next to Dean. “You can do this. You’re not that little fledgling hiding behind my wings anymore. You’ve got a home, and people who love you, don’t let this douchebag ruin what you have. Cast him out, Castiel. Take back your life.”

There’s an unearthly scream from Cas’ mouth and Dean falls backwards, watching as Cas’ body twists on the floor in the middle of the holy fire. “What the—Cas?”

“He’s fighting,” Gabriel says, pulling Dean to his feet. “Don’t distract him.”

“But he—” Dean’s cut off by Cas screaming and he finds himself unable to stop watching Cas’ body convulse.

Gabriel grips Dean’s elbow, holding him back and forcing him to stay still. Sam’s next to them, brows furrowed, and Dean has no idea what he’s going through watching Cas battle against Lucifer like this.

The noises keep coming from the circle and Dean wants to look away, can’t stand seeing Cas like this, fighting for survival yet again but he owes him to keep watching. There’s nothing that Dean can do for him, and after everything that’s happened between he and Cas, he hates that it’s like this. “C’mon, Cas,” he whispers. “You think I don’t have faith, but I—you. I got faith in you. Fight him.”

Cas rolls onto his hands and knees, his head lowered, Dean’s ears start to ring and he clamps his hands over his ears, fairly sure what’s about to happen. Sam’s on the floor, covering his ears, and Dean fights to stay standing; as much as he wants to curl in on himself, he wants to be here, in this moment, for Cas.

Dean’s ears pop, blood trickling out and down his jaw. Everything is muffled, but Dean keeps his eyes on Cas, watching as Cas lifts his head and opens his mouth. A thick dark smoke comes pouring out of Cas’ mouth, shoots straight up into the sky and dissipates. Cas collapses to the ground, seemingly unconscious, and Dean runs to the edge of the flames, his ears still ringing, and tries to see if Cas is alive.

“Cas? Cas?” There’s no reaction from Cas and Dean turns to Sam and Gabriel. “Water,” he says, not knowing if Sam can even hear him. “The car.”

There’s a momentary look of confusion over Sam’s face, but before he can move, Gabriel’s back with bottles of water from the Impala. Dean grabs one and starts extinguishing the fire, out of the corner of his eye he can see Sam doing the same, and once they’re gone Dean rushes to Cas, turning him over. “Cas?” His hand hovers over Cas’ face, fingertips almost brushing along Cas’ forehead. “Gabriel, get in here.”

Gabriel moves quickly, healing Sam and Dean with a touch before kneeling next to Cas and pressing his palm on Cas’ forehead. “Hey, kiddo, wake up. Come on.”

“Is he—”

“Lucifer’s gone. I don’t know where, but he’s gone.”

Sam looks around, slightly hunched over like he thinks Lucifer’s going to come back any second, and Dean can’t really blame him for that. “Sam, get down here,” he says, wanting to get that look off Sam’s face.

Cas still hasn’t moved and Dean shoots a questioning look at Gabriel who shrugs at him, his hand still resting on Cas’ forehead. “He’s alive,” Gabriel says, moving his hand. “He’s still Castiel, but expelling Lucifer took a lot out of him.”

“Okay,” Dean says, looking back down at Cas. “We’re taking him back to the bunker. At least he’ll be safe there.”

*

Castiel doesn’t wake up on the short drive back to the bunker, and after Dean pulls the Impala into the garage he helps Gabriel get Cas out of the backseat. Curling his arms underneath Cas’ weight, Dean straightens up to carry him inside.

“You know I could carry him in,” Gabriel says, leaning against the car.

“I’ve got him, and get the hell off my car.”

Sam laughs and grabs the bags out of the trunk, slinging them over his shoulders. “Where are you taking him?”

“My room,” Dean says, ignoring the look Gabriel and Sam exchange. Carefully carrying Cas inside, Dean makes his way through the halls until he reaches his room. Pushing the door open with his shoulder, he makes his way inside, narrowly avoiding banging Cas’ head on the frame. Bending down, Dean places Cas on the bed and stands there looking down at him. Cas’ head is at an awkward angle and Dean leans down to fix it, his hand brushing over Cas’ cheek.

“Dean,” Cas mumbles, turning into the touch, and it’s such a shock that Dean almost jerks his hand away.

“I’m here,” Dean says, looking around before running his fingers through Cas’ hair, cursing himself for the sentimentality. “Cas?”

There’s no response and Dean sighs, walking to the end of the bed and taking Cas’ shoes off. Dropping them on the floor, Dean grabs an extra blanket from his dresser and covers Cas up, tucking the blanket in firmly around Cas’ shoulders. Leaning down, Dean presses a soft kiss against Cas’ forehead, reluctant to leave him but wanting to clean up; there’s still blood on his face, blood soaked into his clothes, and his muscles are tense and aching.

“Hey,” he says when he steps out of his room, finding Sam and Gabriel lurking in the hall. “I’m gonna shower.”

“He awake?” Sam asks, leaning against the wall.

“No, not really.” Dean scrubs a hand through his hair, wincing when he feels dried blood flaking away. “He said my name, but—”

“I’ll keep an eye on the kid,” Gabriel says. “Go wash that shit off.”

“Don’t rummage through my porn,” Dean says, ducking back into his room to grab some clothes. “Sam, you okay?”

“Yeah. I guess. I mean—what are we going to do now?”

“Hell if I know, Sammy.”

*

The water pounds down on Dean’s skin and he lowers his head, gaze fixing on the diluted blood running down the drain. It’s not the first time he’s had to wash blood off himself, and it won’t be the last, but this time it was because of Cas, was to save Cas, and there’s no doubt in his mind he’d do it all over again if it meant getting Cas back. It should scare him, maybe, but instead it’s just a confirmation of what he already knew; Cas is _it_ , the person he’d burn the world down to save and that—Dean needs him to know that.

Once the water’s running clean, Dean steps out of the shower and dries off, slipping into a pair of sweatpants and a henley. He pads down the hallway, ducking his head into Sam’s room to see him passed out on his bed, before carrying on to his own room. Gabriel’s brought a chair into the room and he’s perched on the edge, watching Cas as if this is a goddamn hospital ward.

“Anything?”

“He mumbled your name again,” Gabriel says, not looking up. “Aside from that, nothing.”

Dean hovers before deciding there’s no point in hiding shit and sits on the other side of the bed, swinging his legs up and settling against the headboard. “You staying with us?”

“Are you asking me to watch you while you sleep?”

“I meant in the bunker, not in my room.”

“If you think I’m leaving my brother now, you’re crazier than I thought.”

Dean folds his arms over his chest and fixes Gabriel with a glare. “You didn’t seem to have a problem before this.”

“Really? You’re going to go there? Because I’m not the only one that’s let him down.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, exhaling heavily. “I know. Look, I’m beat, can you—”

“Leave?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Gabriel says as he stands up. “Let me know if anything happens.”

“Close the door,” Dean calls after Gabriel, rolling his eyes when Gabriel doesn’t listen. “Goddamn fucking angels,” he says as he gets off the bed to close the door.

Cas is still terrifyingly still, and Dean feels a childish urge to poke him, just to see if he can make him react. “Fuck,” he mutters to himself as he gets back on the bed, not taking his eyes off Cas. The adrenaline is starting to wear off and the exhaustion is sinking into his bones, making every part of him feel heavy; Dean doesn’t want to sleep, doesn’t want to abandon Cas like this, but he can feel himself starting to fade. Dean reaches over and slings an arm over Cas’ body, needing to have this—to ground himself to Cas in some way—and before he realises what’s happening, he’s asleep, body curled towards Cas.

*

Dean’s woken up by a grip on his forearm and his eyes shoot open. “Cas?”

“Dean?”

Scrambling to a sitting position, legs crossed, Dean looks at Cas. “Hi,” he says, a little dumbstruck.

“Your hair is sticking up,” Cas informs him, and Dean cannot believe that’s the first thing he’s heard Cas— _his_ Cas—say in weeks.

“It was wet when I went to sleep,” is all he can think to say. “Cas, I—”

“Thank you,” Cas says, the blanket pushed down his chest, his hand still gripping Dean’s arm.

“Cas, don’t.”

“Don’t thank you?” Cas lets go of Dean’s arm and pushes himself up until he’s sitting, leaning against the headboard. “Dean I—”

“Stop. You’re recovering, we’re not talking about this now.”

“We need to talk about this,” Cas says. “I need to explain.”

“Hell yeah you do. Letting Lucifer in? I don’t understand—” Dean cuts himself off and shakes his head. “You need more rest.”

“No, Dean, I have to explain,” Cas says stubbornly. “I wasn’t useful in this fight, I haven’t been useful for a long time.”

“Cas, no—”

“It’s _true_ , Dean. Lucifer could’ve helped in ways I never could. I couldn’t even leave the bunker.”

“You—what?”

“I couldn’t leave the bunker. I—the spell Rowena cast left me... weak. Scared. I couldn’t help you and Sam, heaven didn’t want me, I was expendable. I still am, even now. Taking up your bed, your time. Dean, I have no purpose.”

“You do have a purpose, Cas. I don’t care if you can’t leave the bunker, I don’t care if you can’t fight, I _need_ you. You’re not weak, and you’re not expendable. You’re family.”

“That doesn’t preclude me from being either of those things,” Cas says, folding his arms over his chest. “Lucifer was my family, once. I’ve slaughtered more members of my family than I can remember, I’m responsible for an entire generation of angels being cast out of heaven onto earth, my home no longer wants me, and in my current state I am nothing more than a burden to you.”

“If you really think that, you should’ve left me in hell,” Dean says, getting off the bed because he can’t sit here and listen to this. “Everything you’ve done since then has been a result of being caught up with me. If you think stopping the goddamn apocalypse, saving countless lives, saving _me_ doesn’t cancel out all the bad you think you’ve done, then you should’ve just left me in the pit. Left me with Alistair.”

“Dean—that’s not—it’s not about _you_.”

Dean pauses in his pacing and turns to look at Cas. “I know it’s not about me, Cas, but I—I don’t know what to do here. I need you, all of you, however you are, and that’s not—” Dean breaks off and scrubs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to deal with this.”

“Because I’m a burden.”

“You’re not a burden. You’re never a burden.”

Cas sighs, looking down at his hands. “I don’t understand how you can say that.”

“Will you at least accept that I want you here? That I need you here?” Dean sits on the edge of the bed by Cas’ legs and reaches over, wrapping a hand around one of Cas’ wrists. “Cas?”

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

Dean nods to himself, his hand still looped around Cas’ wrist, fingers stroking Cas’ skin. “You don’t have to stay in here if you don’t want, if you want your own room, then—”

“I don’t want my own room. I like being with you.”

“Good.” Dean lets go of Cas’ wrist and looks at his watch. “S’early, still. You want to sleep some more?”

“I don’t know. I feel strange.”

“You’ve been through a lot.”

Cas sighs, rubbing his hands together. “I don’t know what I am, Dean. I have my grace, but I didn’t recover from Rowena’s spell, and then Lucifer—” Cas pauses, looking at Dean. “I shouldn’t need sleep, but I do, and I don’t know what that makes me.”

“You’re Cas. That’s enough for me.” Standing up, Dean looks down at Cas. “I’m going to make some food, you want to come? Gabriel’s lurking around somewhere.”

“I’d like to see him,” Cas says, getting off the bed. “Is he—why is he here?”

“For you,” Dean says. Cas is standing there, his hair ruffled, clothes askew with a dejected look on his face like he can’t bring himself to believe it, and Dean’s heart sinks into his shoes. He doesn’t know how to fix this; he’s self aware enough to realise that he’s not in a position to lecture anyone about their self worth, but it’s _Cas_ , and Dean needs him to know how important he is not just to Dean, but to the goddamn world. “Do you want to change into something?” Dean asks, for lack of anything else to say. “You can borrow some clothes.”

Cas looks down on himself, nodding slowly. “I think that would be good.”

*

The clothes Dean give Cas don’t quite fit him properly—the sweatpants a little tight around the hips, and the t-shirt a little long—but he seems to relax once he’s in them. When they make it to the kitchen, Sam and Gabriel are nowhere to be seen and Dean cracks some eggs in a bowl, whipping them with a dash of milk and some black pepper before throwing them in a pan.

It’s quiet, and Dean doesn’t break the silence, isn’t entirely sure what to say after everything they’ve already said, and Cas doesn’t seem like he wants to talk anyway. He focuses on the eggs and tries not to let them burn. Dean’s just dished up the eggs onto a plate when Gabriel shows up.

“Hey, kiddo,” Gabriel says from the doorway before walking into the kitchen and sitting down opposite Cas at the table.

“Gabriel. I thought you were dead.”

“Yeah,” Gabriel says, leaning back on the chair. “It was safer.”

Dean sits next to Cas and starts eating, keeping silent for fear of disrupting whatever fragile connection Cas and Gabriel are trying to make.

“Safer,” Cas says, resting his hands on the table. “Metatron slit my throat and stole my grace, left me human, angels have been hunting me, trying to _kill_ me, a witch cursed me to kill everyone I came across, but you thought it was _safer_ that I didn’t know you were alive?”

“I’m sorry.”

It’s like whatever fight Castiel has in him leaves his body as soon as Gabriel says that, and he crumples, almost falling against Dean’s side. “Hey,” Dean says, fork falling to the floor with a clatter as he adjusts himself to catch Cas, wrapping his arms around him. “Cas, hey, you’re safe. You’re safe here.” Dean can feel Cas shaking, and he holds him close, no idea what else to do.

Gabriel gets up and walks over, kneeling in front of Cas. “I didn’t know,” he says quietly. “I would’ve come if I had known. I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere until, well, Sam and Dean kick me out.”

There’s a faint laugh from Cas, and that eases some of the panic surfacing in Dean’s chest. Cas doesn’t pull away, but he straightens up a little to look at Gabriel. his hair brushing across Dean’s face. “Thank you,” Cas says. “For helping me fight.”

“That was all you, kid,” Gabriel says, standing up. “I just talked at you.”

“It helped,” Cas says firmly, shifting away from Dean, but searching out Dean’s hand and threading their fingers together. “All of you did.”

There’s a banging noise from outside the kitchen and Sam stumbles in, heading straight for the coffee. He turns around with a full mug and frowns at the scene in front of him. “When did Cas wake up?”

*

“You left a Hand of God in Vegas?” Sam looks down at the map and makes a face. “Seriously?”

“Technically it wasn’t Vegas when I left it there, it was a desert.”

“And now?”

“Now I think it’s somewhere under the Wynn.”

Sam shakes his head, his hands resting against the table. “Getting it is going to be your job.”

“Piece of cake,” Gabriel says.

Dean snorts, his eyes on the television, Cas curled up by his side, slightly drowsy as he rests his head against Dean’s chest.

“You doubting me, Dean-o?”

“I already told you not to call me that, and yes, absolutely, I am doubting you.” When Dean looks down, he can see the corner of Cas’ mouth turning up and, unless Chopped has got way more amusing in the last five seconds, Dean’s going to assume it’s because of him. “What’s the plan?” he asks, eventually tearing his eyes away from Cas. “You get it and, what? We yell for Amara?”

Cas stiffens against him and Dean runs his fingers along Cas’ shoulder. “You’re going to fight Amara?” Cas asks quietly.

“No,” Dean says, holding Cas a little tighter. “I don’t think I can.”

Gabriel walks over and folds his arms over his chest. “What are you talking about?”

“The Mark of Cain,” Dean says, keeping his eyes locked on the television. “I don’t know why, but she—there’s a hold I can’t break. It’s like a churning in my gut each time I’m near her, empty, nothing but darkness. If we’re going to have a hope in hell of beating her, it can’t be me.”

“Are we sure Lucifer wasn’t lying to us?” Sam asks, coming over and leaning against the arm of the couch. “About the whole Hand of God thing? It would’ve given him power, right? How do we know that it wasn’t just about power for him?”

“He wasn’t lying,” Cas says, lifting his head from Dean’s chest. “I was awake when he—I’d know if he had been lying. He wanted power, yes, but he also would’ve used it to defeat the Darkness. After that, he would’ve come for you, killed you, and enjoyed every second of it.”

“Cas—”

“It’s okay,” Cas says, cutting Dean off. “That was his plan, and he took great pleasure in telling me.”

“That’s not okay, Cas, not at all.”

There’s silence in the room, the television blaring an advert, and Cas stands up from the couch. “I don’t wish to talk about this anymore,” he says, before walking away.

Dean sighs, tilting his head back and staring up at the high ceiling. “I don’t know what to do,” he says, eventually before lowering his head. “He’s not okay.”

“Yeah,” Sam says. “Can I—I’m gonna try and talk to him. I know what he’s going through, kind of.”

“Sure,” Dean says, waving a hand in the air. “Go on.” He looks over at Gabriel after Sam’s left and raises an eyebrow. “You gonna go talk to him as well?”

“Nope,” Gabriel says, sitting on the couch. “I’m going to tell you a few things about my little brother because you sure as hell don’t have the monopoly on screwed up families.”

“My family didn’t try and end the world,” Dean says, grumpily, staring at the television.

“You kinda did.”

Dean turns and looks at Gabriel. “And whose family started it?”

“Cute.” Commercials play on the television, filling the room with noise. “Castiel was different from the start,” Gabriel says. “A fledgling. Curious little shit, peeking over the edges of clouds before his wings were fully developed and almost falling into water.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean asks, switching the television off and turning on the couch, swinging his legs up and crossing them. “How did that make him different?”

“Angels were made with purpose, we had roles that we were expected to fill. Castiel was an experiment God decided to do; an angel raised by other angels, an angel who would grow like a human child. There were other fledglings, but they had a purpose and were already being trained, Castiel wasn’t.”

“Why?”

“If you meet God, you can ask him.”

Dean rolls his eyes and leans against the arm of the couch. “So Cas was a kid?”

“He was a fledgling during Lucifer’s fall.” Gabriel shakes his head, staring off into the distance. “We all saw it was happening. God didn’t want to interfere, left us with Michael and Lucifer at each other’s throats. Castiel, he’d hide behind my wings whenever Lucifer was in a mood because he didn’t want to be near him.”

“You left him behind,” Dean says, realising what Gabriel is driving at. “When you left, he was left alone with Michael, Raphael, Uriel, and the rest of those dicks.”

“Yes,” Gabriel says quietly. “I couldn’t take him with me, so I left and I ran, and I tried to forget about everything. Almost succeeded, until you worked out what I was.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because Castiel was always different. Whenever he was taught something, he’d ask questions. No angels did that. The kid even wanted to know why Lucifer was so angry, as if there was a way to explain that.”

“They tried to erase it,” Dean says, running his fingers over his knee, realisation hitting him. “What makes him special, Naomi—” Dean breaks off and stands up, picking up a book from the table and throwing it. “Fuck,” he shouts, hands dangling uselessly by his side. “How many times did they wipe him? Try to fix him?”

“I wasn’t there, Dean, I don’t know.”

“Thinking they’re doing God’s work as if everyone who has ever said that isn’t an asshole,” Dean mumbles, turning around to face Gabriel. “One of them, she said when Castiel touched me he was lost to heaven.”

“Do you ever think about why he was the one to rescue you? Castiel had lived without a purpose for years, Dean, and then there you were. The Righteous Man in need of saving.”

“I’m not his purpose,” Dean says firmly, recoiling at the idea. “That’s not—Cas has a purpose; he does good here whether he’s with me or not.”

“Relax, I’m not talking about destiny or co-dependence. There’s enough of that around without throwing my baby brother into it. No, Castiel wanted something for his own that wasn’t dictated to him from heaven. If it hadn’t been you, it would’ve been something else.”

Dean nods, folding his arms over his chest. He can’t help but wonder what Sam and Cas are talking about; if Sam has managed to get through to Cas. Figures that the two people he loves most in the world would have something so horrific to bond over. “So,” he says, clearing his throat. “Cas has always been an anomaly.”

“Now you’re getting it. The more time he spent down here with humanity, the further he got from heaven.”

“But he kept leaving.”

“You’ve never felt a responsibility to family members?” Gabriel looks at Dean pointedly, and okay, that’s fair. “Besides, he always came back, didn’t he? Castiel belongs down here, he needs you as much as you need him.”

Dean walks back over to the couch and sits down on the edge, resting his elbows on his knees and running his hands through his hair. “I want him to stay,” he says, looking down at the ground. “He thinks he wasn’t of use, and that’s why he let Lucifer in. Cas, he—there’s been a lot happening to him, and he’s got all twisted up.”

“Then untwist him.”

“I’m gonna try.”

*

When Sam comes back out, Gabriel’s left the bunker to try and get the horn, and Dean’s sitting at the table in almost total darkness, a lamp on the table the only light.

“Dean? You good?”

“What? Yeah, Sammy, I’m fine. How’s Cas?”

“Sleeping,” Sam says, taking a seat at the table and sighing. “He’s really messed up, Dean.”

“I know.”

“You know Lucifer kept him awake? The whole time? Cas had to watch him and couldn’t do anything.”

Dean doesn’t say a word, staring down at the table. It’s not a surprise, Dean knows Lucifer would’ve taken great pleasure in torturing Cas, in making him realise exactly what kind of deal he’d actually made. Knowing that doesn’t make having it confirmed any easier.

“Dean?”

“Sorry, yeah.” Dean shakes his head and looks at his brother. “Are you okay? Talking about Lucifer with Cas?”

“He needed to know that I know what he’s going through,” Sam says with conviction, even with the haunted look in his eyes.

“Sammy—”

“No, Dean, he’s family and I—he needs help. I can cope.”

Dean eyes Sam, frowning at the way Sam’s holding himself back. It’s not like they’re the kind of family who spill their feelings all over the floor every day, but Dean can see that Sam’s not telling him the whole story. “Don’t break yourself apart trying to help Cas,” Dean says. “We can help him without you doing that to yourself.”

“I’m okay, Dean. Really.”

“Yeah, sure.” Dean gets up from the table, sighs and shakes his head. “You hungry?”

“You don’t need to cook for me, Dean. Where’s Gabriel?”

“Gone to look for the horn. You sure you’re not hungry?”

Sam laughs, looking slightly more relaxed, and gets up from the table. “I’m gonna read, hopefully sleep. You should do the same.”

“Read?”

“Sleep.”

Dean looks over his shoulder in the direction of his room, where he knows Cas is in his bed, probably still asleep. “Yeah,” he says. “I guess so.”

*

It’s warm when Dean wakes up, and he’s blinking into consciousness before he realises it’s because Cas is all over him, limbs splayed over Dean’s body. Cas is mumbling something, breath hitting Dean’s neck, and his body’s tense, like he’s scared to move. Pressing a hand between Cas’ shoulderblades, Dean frowns. “Cas? Cas, wake up. C’mon.”

Cas’ voice gets clearer, and Dean winces when he hears “Lucifer,” and “no,” coming from Cas’ mouth. His hand is gripping Dean’s side so tight, Dean’s sure he’s going to end up with bruises but he’ll worry about that later, right now he just wants Cas to wake up.

“Cas,” he says, louder than before, rubbing his hand down Cas’ back. “You’re safe. Wake up, c’mon, come back to me.”

Cas’ body stills and his grip loosens slightly. “Dean?”

“M’here.”

“Oh.” Cas shifts, his ankle brushing against Dean’s shin. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Dean says, his hand reaching up and brushing a hand against the base of Cas’ neck. “I don’t expect you to be okay.”

“I don’t like this,” Cas says against Dean’s neck. “I don’t like feeling vulnerable, I don’t like feeling broken, I want it to stop.”

Dean silently runs his fingers through the ends of Cas’ hair, pressing his lips to the top of Cas’ head. “I know,” he says quietly. “I can’t promise that it’ll stop, but you’ll find a way to cope.”

“How?”

“I’m not the best role model for that,” Dean says, smiling when he feels Cas laugh. “Honestly, Cas, I don’t know. People say time heals, but my mom—it still hurts.”

“She would be proud of you.”

“Cas—”

“She would,” Cas says firmly, his voice steadier than it was, and Dean doesn’t know what to do with the level of faith that Cas shows in him. It’s seemingly unshakeable, even after everything they’ve been through, and it would almost be terrifying if it weren’t for the fact that Dean has that same faith in Cas.

“Dean?” Cas asks, interrupting Dean’s train of thought.

“Yeah, Cas?”

“I don’t want to go back.”

“Go ba—heaven? You don’t want to go back to heaven?”

“No.”

“Okay.” It’s a fragile silence between them stretching out in the dark of Dean’s room; all Dean’s aware of is the weight of Cas on him, the feel of his skin beneath his hands, and the aching need for Cas to say that he wants to stay with him. For all Dean knows, Cas could want to explore the world; once he’s fully recovered, he could go anywhere, and Dean wouldn’t blame him if he did. People do better when they’re not around Dean.

“Stop thinking so loud,” Cas says, finally, inserting his leg between Dean’s thighs. “I’m staying with you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to. I choose to.”

“Oh.”

Cas hums in a satisfied manner, his body finally feeling like it’s relaxed for the first time since Dean woke him up. There’s an implicit trust in the way Cas is allowing Dean to take care of him, and it’s overwhelming, bigger than anything Dean’s ever been involved in before.

“I don’t know how to win this,” Dean confesses in the quiet, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “Going out fighting is one thing, sittin’ on the sidelines not being able to fight isn’t something I know how to do.”

“You’re more than a weapon, Dean. You’re valuable to this world, to me, to Sam, even if you can’t fight.”

“Guess we’ll see.”

“You’re enough as you are,” Cas says, each word making his mouth drag across Dean’s neck. There’s a light brush of lips against Dean’s neck, not quite a kiss, but involving enough intention that it makes Dean’s chest tighten.

“I hope so.”

*

By the time Dean and Cas surface the next morning, Gabriel is already back, the horn sitting in the middle of the table. Clutching a mug of coffee, Dean pulls his robe around him and takes a seat; Cas joins him, a mug in one hand and a slice of toast smeared with grape jelly in the other.

“Think we’ve found her,” Sam says, staring at his laptop. “There’s, uh, a whole bunch of signs and Gabriel passed over there on his way back here and it seems pretty definite.”

“Do I want to know what the signs are?” Dean asks, squinting at Sam above his mug.

“Probably not.”

“Great.”

Gabriel looks up from the book he’s been reading and raises an eyebrow. “Squeamish, Dean?”

“Just getting sick of people dying on my watch.”

Nodding once, Gabriel closes the book and stands up. “We can’t kill her, you all know that, right? Last time around the best we could do was bind her.”

“She’s weakened,” Cas says, wiping a smear of jelly from his chin. “When she came for me, before she told me I wasn’t worth anything, she wasn’t at full strength.”

“Cas—”

“It’s fine, Dean.” Cas reaches over, resting his hand on Dean’s thigh, and Dean shuts up, sipping his coffee and ignoring his ears heating up at Cas’ touch. “Maybe, if Gabriel or I use the Hand of God, we can harm her enough to bind her.”

“How?” Sam asks, pushing his laptop away. “Create another Mark of Cain? Who would carry it? And we’re not God, we can’t conjure things out of nowhere.”

“Well,” Dean says, chugging the last of his coffee before slamming the mug down on the table and standing up. “Good to know we have a plan.”

He walks out of the room before anyone can stop him.

*

Closing the door behind him, Dean sits on the edge of his bed, resting his head in his hands. He’s at a loss about what to do now; even with the Hand of God, they don’t have enough power to go after Amara. It’s a suicide mission, and there was a time when Dean would’ve been all for that, but he—he wants to live. After everything that’s happened, he wants a life; wants to be around to see where this thing with Cas goes, to make sure Sammy doesn’t bury himself in the bunker until the end of time, to grow old and grumpy and complain about kids. For the first time in a long time, he doesn’t want to die, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to die because he can’t fight this battle.

At the very base of it, he’s angry. This is bigger than anything they’ve ever had to deal with before—the damn sister of God—and there’s no instruction booklet for it, no handy guide on how to stop her. The only reason they’ve even got a vague idea of how to weaken her is because of Lucifer, which has left Cas a shell of a person, and Dean doesn’t get why God can’t come and sort his own family shit out.

“Hear that?” Dean mumbles as he gets up and pulls some clothes out of his dresser. “You hear me?” Tugging jeans up his legs roughly, Dean gets louder as he talks. “Whatever sabbatical you’re on, hanging out on some cloud as the world you created falls apart because of your bitch of a sister, it’s over, you hear me? Get your damn ass down here and clean up your mess.” Dean pulls a t-shirt on and finds a plaid shirt to throw on over it; raking a hand over his face, he swallows around the lump in his throat. “I can’t do this,” he says, choking out the words. “I can’t win.”

The door creaks open and Cas slips into the room. “Who are you talking to?”

“No one.”

Cas sits on the bed, still in the clothes he borrowed from Dean yesterday, his hands twisted together in his lap. “Were you talking to God?”

“Yelling at God might be more accurate.”

“Was it working?”

“Does it ever?” Dean walks over to the bed and sits next to Cas. “I couldn’t think of what else to do. This is bigger than anything we’ve taken on before.”

“All evidence says that he won’t care.”

Dean quiets, reaching over and taking Cas’ hand in his. “You believe that?”

“I don’t know what I believe anymore, Dean. He abandoned us, all of us, angels and humans alike. I want to think that he’ll come back if we need him, but if I place my faith in that—” Cas breaks off, squeezing Dean’s hand. “I can’t be let down again. Not now.”

“Do you think he’s listening?”

“I hope so.”

“If he is listening, what would you say to him?” Dean asks, looking at Cas.

“Are you asking me to pray with you?” Cas turns, meeting Dean’s eyes. “Dean?”

“Got another plan for fighting this?”

“You haven’t prayed to anyone since—”

“You,” Dean says, cutting off Cas. “I know.” Dean feels stripped by Cas’ gaze, flashing back to all the times he sat on this bed, praying to Cas, hoping that he’d hear and come back to him.

“Close your eyes,” Cas says, bringing his other hand up to hold Dean’s hand in both of his.

“Cas—”

“Close your eyes,” Cas repeats firmly, and Dean obeys. He can hear Cas take a deep breath and then exhale before he starts to talk. “You abandoned us—”

“Good start, Cas.”

“Shut up. Father, you abandoned us, and I will never understand why. My brothers and sisters died while you were absent, Naomi—” Cas breaks off, and Dean can hear the strain in his voice. “She brainwashed me over and over, and you were nowhere to be found. We haven’t asked for anything, but the Darkness is yours, older than anything we know, and we can’t fight it alone.”

Dean opens his eyes, and when he looks at Cas, he sees that Cas’ eyes are watery and his jaw is clenched. “Hey,” he says softly, leaning in and nuzzling against Cas’ cheek. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“No,” Cas says, turning to catch Dean’s mouth with his own in a brief kiss. “I did.”

*

According to Gabriel, Amara’s set herself up in Lawrence, and Dean knows it’s an attempt to draw him out, to get under his skin, but he doesn’t want to admit it’s working.

“We can’t sit back and let her eat souls,” Dean says, standing over the table, his hands resting on it. “We have to do something.”

“I agree, Dean, but what?” Sam asks, folding his arms across his chest. “We can’t go storming in and expect to win.”

“We’ve got a Hand of God. That’s a start.”

“And who’s going to use it?”

“I am,” Gabriel says from the couch where he’s watching Chopped with Cas. “Castiel isn’t full strength, sorry kid, and I’m stronger than either of you.”

“C’mon, Sam,” Dean says. “We can at least weaken her. That’s gotta be worth something.”

Sam’s quiet, shaking his head as he stares at the table, hands on his hips. “Okay,” he says, finally. “We’ll give it a shot. Tomorrow, though. We’ll set off in the morning.”

*

After dinner, Dean heads to the shower, stripping off his clothes and stepping under the stream of water, closing his eyes as it thuds down on his skin. Breathing in the steam, Dean feels his chest expand and his muscles losing their tightness. He’s only under the water for a few minutes before he hears the door open. “I really hope that’s you, Cas.”

“It’s me. Can I—would you mind—”

“Get in,” Dean says before he can think about it. There’s a rustle of clothes as Cas gets undressed and then he’s stepping inside, the water hitting his head, flattening his hair immediately. “That’s a good look for you,” Dean says with a smile, reaching up and pushing Cas’ hair back.

“Naked?”

Dean laughs, his fingers tracing down the side of Cas’ face. “I was talking about your hair, but that’s good too. Are you going to be okay tomorrow?”

“I’ll be fine, Dean,” Cas says, leaning into Dean’s touch. “You’ll be with me.”

“That’s a helluva lot of faith to put in me,” Dean says, rubbing his thumb over Cas’ bottom lip.

“Not in you. In us.”

Dean drops his hand from Cas’ face, skirting down Cas’ chest before letting it fall to his side. “Cas—”

“Trust me?”

“Yes,” Dean says with a slight nod of his head. There’s no doubt in his mind that he trusts Cas; he feels it down to his very marrow that the faith he has in Cas is everlasting, and maybe that’s fucked up, but it’s something solid he can hang on to. “Always.”

“Then I’ll be okay,” Cas says, his arms looping around Dean’s neck. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

The water’s still hot, filling the room with steam, and Dean isn’t sure whether it’s that or Cas being so close that’s making it hard for him to breathe. Cas is staring at him, mouth slightly parted, and it barely takes any movement from Dean before they’re kissing; Dean’s hands clutching at Cas’ hips, trying to get a grip on his wet skin.

It’s different to before, when all they had were stolen moments in amongst the chaos, never in the same place long enough to try and work out what they were, but knowing it all meant _something_.

There’s a slip slide of skin against skin, water pouring down on them, and Dean takes a step back, dragging Cas with him until he’s up against the shower wall, his hands sliding down to grip Cas’ ass. Dean can feel Cas hardening against him, and he tears himself away from Cas’ mouth, resting their foreheads together. “What do you want?”

“You,” Cas says, his fingers restlessly running along Dean’s shoulders and down his arms.

Dean smiles, leaning in and kissing Cas softly, as if they’re not naked, hard, and searching for release. “You got me,” he says, lips brushing over Cas’ mouth. Letting go of Cas’ ass, Dean reaches out to the side, scrambling for the shampoo; he squirts some in his hand and starts to rub it through Cas’ hair, smiling when Cas closes his eyes. “Feel good?”

“Yes,” Cas says, his voice rougher than usual, tipping his head towards Dean’s touch. They’ve never done this before, and Dean’s determined to take as much time as he wants, enjoying the softness of Cas’ hair under his hands. Small groans slip out of Cas’ mouth as Dean massages his scalp, and each sound goes straight to Dean’s dick.

“Step back,” Dean says, getting Cas under the spray, rinsing the shampoo out. He stands and watches the suds run down Cas’ body, trailing all the way down his chest, over his hips, and down his thighs. When he looks up, Cas is staring at him. “What?”

“You’re objectifying me.”

“So what if I am?” Dean takes a few steps towards Cas, hauling him close by the hips until their dicks are pressed up against each other. “Is there a problem with that?” The words are just out of Dean’s mouth when Cas kisses him, hands holding Dean’s face like it’s something precious, and it’s such a contrast to the frantic way Dean’s holding Cas’ hips and grinding against him that it almost puts Dean over the edge already. He mumbles Cas’ name, and it’s swallowed by Cas’ mouth as he keeps kissing Dean, his fingers brushing over Dean’s cheekbones.

The water falling down over them means Dean can barely keep his eyes open, so all he has to go on are the movements and sounds Cas is making, sounds that Dean knows no-one else is able to get Cas to make, sounds that he knows are for him and him only. Sliding a hand down between them, Dean takes them both in hand, the water and suds easing the way as he jerks them off, slow and steady. It’s like time stops and all Dean is aware of is what he has here with Cas in this moment; mouths meeting in a sloppy imitation of kissing; Cas’ hands exploring Dean’s body, roaming all over his skin as Dean gets them ever closer to orgasm. When Cas finds his release, his fingers dig into Dean’s biceps, blunt nails leaving marks as he shudders and cries out; Dean’s not far behind, any noises he would’ve made lost in Cas’ mouth as Cas kisses him through it.

Legs shaking slightly, Dean lets the water wash them clean as he clings to Cas, losing himself in the way Cas teases him, nipping at his lower lip, his fingers playing with the hair at the nape of Dean’s neck.

There’s no part of Dean that wants to think of this as the last time—doesn’t want to contemplate losing everything he’s finally managed to get—but it could be, so when they’re out of the shower, he’s rubbing a towel over Cas’ wet hair, laughing at the way it’s sticking up and he stops because this is it. Cas is it, and probably has been for longer than Dean would like to admit. “I love you,” he says, hands holding the towel so tight that his knuckles are at risk of turning white. “You should know.”

“I always did,” Cas says quietly, reaching up and cupping Dean’s cheek, thumb stroking Dean’s skin. “There aren’t enough words in any language to express how I feel about you, Dean.”

“Cas—”

“It’s true,” Cas says simply, giving Dean a kiss so soft, Dean doesn’t know what to do with it.

“C’mon,” Dean says, his cheeks heating up. “We should sleep.”

*

It’s a four hour drive to Lawrence, and Dean almost wishes it were longer so they’d have more time to prepare. Cas is next to him in the front seat, fingers tapping against the upholstery in time to the music which would make Dean smile if he didn’t know it was a nervous tic. Sam and Gabriel are in the back seat, Gabriel staring out of the window, Sam playing on his phone, the horn resting between them in a box.

“Where is she, exactly?” Dean asks, needing to break the silence.

“Last we can track, a nature area by the edge of town,” Sam says, meeting Dean’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “People come out of there and they’re different, my guess would be soulless.”

“Great,” Dean says, foot hitting the gas as they exit Topeka. “Just what we need.”

*

When they pull into the nature park, it’s eerily silent, not even the sound of birds chirping. Dean shoots a look at Cas, finding him looking as disturbed as Dean feels, which doesn’t ease the churning in Dean’s gut as they stand there, waiting for whatever happens next.

“We’re just going to sit here until she appears?” Gabriel asks, leaning against the car, the box by his feet.

“She’ll show,” Dean says, his eyes scanning the immediate area.

“Because you’re here?”

“Yes.” Dean can see Cas take a step closer to him, and it gives him a certain level of comfort that he didn’t have before. He hates feeling vulnerable, especially hates it when he’s backed up by the people he trusts most in the world, but he knows there’s nothing they can do to help him.

Like some damn movie cliché, the sky starts to darken and Dean steps back until he’s shoulder to shoulder with Cas and Sam, hiding Gabriel from the view of Amara as she appears in the middle of the park.

“Dean,” she says, inclining her head towards him. “You came.”

“Amara.”

“I’m disappointed, Dean. Bringing your brother with you, and Castiel, do you really think you have a chance against me? Against our bond?”

Dean clenches his fists by his side, trying not to vomit from the emptiness that swirls through his body as she looks at him. “There’s no bond,” he chokes out. “This isn’t a bond, it’s manipulation.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “You believe that.”

“He does,” Cas says, blade by his side. “You don’t belong here, on this earth. You never belonged here.”

“Neither do you, Castiel. Angels have even less reason to be here than I do, but you have my brother to thank for that, don’t you? Abandoning you, abandoning these humans you love. My brother left you all to rot, can’t you see that? I’m here to help you all.”

“I’d rather be abandoned by him than live with whatever you want to do,” Cas says. “Humans, despite what you may think, have managed to thrive without God. They find their faith in the people around them, in love, in connections. They don’t need your help.”

Amara laughs, and it hits Dean right in his chest, his hand creeps up and wraps around the hilt of his knife. He knows it won’t cause her any harm, but he needs something solid to hold on to, something he can hold and know he’s still him, reassure himself that he’s not going to let her take him.

There’s a silent rage coming off Cas, and Dean’s terrified he’s going to do something stupid, but before he can, Gabriel’s standing up, the horn in his hand, and there’s a flash of light that sends Dean, Cas, and Sam backwards onto the ground.

Dean shakes his head, looking between Sam and Cas to check they’re okay, and then he’s drawn back to Gabriel and Amara. He’s got no idea what Gabriel is actually doing—they’re both moving too fast to register—but it’s causing some kind of pain to Amara, he can feel it, can feel _her_ weakening. Dean grabs the knife that Sam’s holding, ignoring Sam’s baffled protests, and throws it in the general direction of Gabriel, grinning when Gabriel is able to use it on Amara, making her bleed.

Her blood starts to swirl in the atmosphere, and Dean looks to Cas who is looking up at the skies. “Cas?”

“I don’t know.”

“Was that a mistake?”

“I don’t know,” Cas says again before looking at Dean, confusion evident. “I have no idea what is happening.”

“Whatever it is, I think we should move,” Sam says, scrambling to his feet and backing away from the blood gathering in the sky. Dean follows his lead, helping Cas to his feet and they walk to what Dean hopes is a safe distance away.

“We can’t help him, can we?” Cas asks, his hand curling around Dean’s fingers.

“No,” Dean says, with the knowledge of what watching your brother fight and being unable to help does to someone. “We can’t. He’s hurting her, I can feel it.”

“Dean—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” Cas says, squeezing Dean’s hand as they watch Gabriel and Amara fighting. They’re moving so fast that it’s more like their energies fighting than their bodies, and if the fate of the world wasn’t at stake, Dean would be fascinated by the sight. Gabriel’s all gold, shimmering light as he battles against Amara’s grey swirls, the blood leaking from her going straight up to the sky, creating looming dark red cloud above them.

There’s a sudden crack in the sky and Dean frowns. “Angels?”

“No,” Cas says quickly. “It’s—that can’t be possible.”

“What?” Sam asks, looking between the sky and Cas. “What is it?”

Cas sits down on the ground, knees bent and his hands by his side. “God.”

Dean’s eyes widen and he looks up at the sky, a light brighter than Gabriel coming through the crack in the sky. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“God.” Dean shakes his head, laughter brewing in his chest that he’s trying to hold back, but it comes out anyway, and Sam looks at him like he’s crazy. “What? I can’t laugh when God shows up?”

Sam shakes his head, a slight smile on his face, and turns back to the battle going on. “What’s he doing?”

“Binding her,” Cas says, looking up at the sky. “It’s old, older than—I don’t recognise it.”

Joining Cas on the ground, Dean leans into him. “Are you okay?”

“It worked. Our prayers, they worked.”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “She’s losing.”

They sit in silence, Sam joining them after a beat, and watch the last of Amara being locked away, the grey and blood fading away. Gabriel’s left in the sky, the damage done to him slowly healing as he falls to the ground in front of Cas. “Hey, kiddo,” he says, blood smeared on his face. “Dad showed up.”

“Gabriel? Are you okay?”

“Will be,” Gabriel says, sitting up and wincing. “She’s gone.”

“What did he do?” Dean asks. “I don’t—there’s nothing there anymore.”

“Bound her to himself. No mark, no room for human error.”

“Huh.”

Gabriel nods. “And now for the awkward part,” he says, looking at Cas. “Dad wants you to come home.”

“No,” Cas says, inching closer to Dean, grabbing his hand. “heaven isn’t my home.”

“I don’t think you have a choice, kid.”

Cas’ jaw sets and Dean ignores the churning in his gut to wrap an arm around Cas’ shoulders. “He has a choice,” Dean says. “That’s the whole goddamn point of everything we’ve been doing while God’s been missing; we get to choose what we do, where we want to be.”

“I know,” Gabriel says, his face solemn. “I’m sorry.”

The next thing Dean knows, Cas and Gabriel are gone, and he’s left clutching at air.

*

The drive back to the bunker is quiet, Dean unable to stop worrying about what’s happening to Cas in heaven, and Sam dozing in the seat next to him. They stop off at a diner, Dean almost ordering double fries to share with Cas before he remembers.

“You good?” Sam asks when their orders have been taken.

“No. God comes back, binds Amara and takes Cas? No, Sam, I’m not okay.”

“He’ll be okay, Dean.”

“Because the last time Cas was with angels, or called back to heaven, things ended so well for him.”

“Gabriel’s with him.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, hand wrapped around the mug of coffee, staring out the window. “Great.”

They eat quickly, exhaustion setting in by the time they make it back to the car. Dean cranks up the stereo and lets Johnny Cash wash over him as he drives back to the bunker; he can’t let himself think about Cas in heaven or he’s going to lose it, but at the same time, there’s nothing to distract him from thinking about it.

“He’s going to come back,” Sam says, looking over at Dean. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “I know.”

“You don’t look like you know.”

“Can you blame me? Last time Cas was around angels, they tortured him, the last time he spent any time in heaven, they brainwashed him and he—” Dean breaks off, clenching his jaw. “I’ll stop worrying when he makes it back.”

Pulling up outside the bunker, Dean almost expects Cas to be waiting for them and tries to bury his disappointment when there’s no sign of him. He turns the Impala into the entrance for the garage and parks her in the space she’s been living in since they stumbled upon it.

“Drink?” Sam asks as they head inside.

“Sure,” Dean says, dropping his bag on the table. “The good stuff.” Sitting at the table, Dean rubs his temples, trying to get rid of the constant headache that he’s had since Cas got taken. He looks up when Sam places a glass and a bottle in front of him. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” Sam sits down, leaning back in his chair. “What now?”

Dean makes a face, pouring out two measures of whiskey. “You want to find a case? Now?”

“No, I mean—look, we’ll get Cas back, but what about after that? We’ve got rid of Amara, Lucifer’s gone, we’re not going to go after Crowley—”

“We could,” Dean interrupts. “Finally kill him. Be done. Make our lives a little easier.”

“Anyway,” Sam says, with a laugh. “What are we going to do next?”

“Vacation.”

“Excuse me?”

“I want a break,” Dean says, knocking back his whiskey. “We deserve a break.”

“I guess.”

Dean contemplates his empty glass before pouring out another measure. “You don’t want a break?”

“I don’t know, Dean, I like the work.” Sam’s leaning back in his chair, hand around the glass. “Feels like I’m doing something useful.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t have a break.”

Instead of answering, Sam finishes his whiskey and stands up. “I’m going to shower.”

Dean lets him go, not wanting to push him on this; if Sam wants to keep working, Dean’s not going to stop him. After this last fight, Dean’s not so sure this life is for him anymore; back when it was ghosts and werewolves, sure, but he never signed on for ancient evils. Taking the last of his drink with him, Dean heads to his room and sits on the bed, digging around until he finds his headphones and the damn iPod Sam insisted on buying him. Switching it on, he finishes his drink, and lays back on the bed, folding his arms over his chest and closing his eyes.

*

There’s a buzzing in his pocket, and it takes Dean a second to realise it’s his phone and that’s why he’s awake and fighting with his headphones. He wriggles around on the bed, finally getting his phone out, and does a double take when he sees Cas’ name on the screen.

“Cas?”

“I’m back.”

Scrambling to his feet, headphones falling to the floor, Dean heads for his bedroom door, walking as fast as he can. “Where are you?”

“Outside the bunker.”

At that, Dean hangs up and puts his phone in his pocket. Breaking into a jog, he passes the table, almost knocks over the chair he left out earlier, and runs up the stairs. Throwing the door open, he stops dead when he sees Cas staring at his phone with a puzzled expression. “Cas,” he says, unable to stop smiling when Cas looks at him. He’s still dressed in the clothes Dean leant him that morning, and it leaves Dean with a warm feeling in his stomach because it’s still his Cas.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says, pocketing his phone and walking over to Dean until he’s so close Dean can feel the heat radiating from his body.

“Are you staying?” Dean asks, his hands by his side, aching to touch Cas.

“Can I come inside?”

“Are you staying?” Dean repeats, grabbing Cas’ wrist with one hand. “Cas, please.”

“I’m staying,” Cas says, reaching up with his free hand and running his fingers through Dean’s hair. “You were asleep.”

“Yeah,” Dean breathes out, waiting while Cas plays with his hair, his fingers eventually trailing down Dean’s forehead, his nose, and over his lips. Cas curls his hand around the back of Dean’s head and leans in, mouth brushing over Dean’s lips, and it’s only then that it really hits Dean; this is real and Cas is staying. When they part, Dean notices the sky starting to pinken with the sun rising, and he takes Cas’ hand. “Come inside, I’ll make breakfast.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://motleywolf.tumblr.com).


End file.
